


King&Lionheart

by Sselene



Series: Incubus!Stiles [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, Incubus!stiles, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4666341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sselene/pseuds/Sselene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s not worried, even though Stiles hasn't answered the phone or called him back. It's okay, he's not worried, he's just going to Stiles because there are <i>things</i> he need. He finds sex (obv).</p>
<p>Can be read as a stand alone, I guess.</p>
<p>It's not really stated but Stiles probably (possibly?) is around 17 in this fic, so for the Californian laws he's underage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King&Lionheart

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest I wasn't sure about the 'pwp' part of this story because there are a LOT of feelings, but in the end I decided to keep it because there is porn and the 'wp' part is still true, so... XD Hope you'll like it! :D

Derek’s not worried. He’s not used to Stiles ignoring his calls, that’s true, but he doesn’t call him often enough to know if it’s more common than he thinks. Stiles probably had something more pressing to do, or was distracted with something else, or anything else.

No, he’s not worried. He’s going to Stiles only because he really needs to talk to him about some things.

Lurking around the Sheriff’s house during the day is not the best course of action, but he’s been here often enough to know the best way to move without being noticed. It’s almost automatic to follow the house’s walls until he’s just under Stiles’s window and jump on the little slope just in front of it. Stiles has often joked that if his father knew how that platform were used, he would have destroyed it – and it’s probably true.

Still, it’s useful for Derek.

He crosses the windowsill, looking around to fix his eyes on Stiles, sitting in the computer chair wearing only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, with his head lolled back and his eyes closed – even though Derek can hear he’s not sleeping. 

There’s a stench in the air, the unmistakeable smell of sex, which explains why Stiles hasn’t answered the phone. 

“Stiles.”

The boys jumps up like he’s been electrocuted and almost falls off the chair, his eyes wide open when he points them on Derek.

“Derek!” He exclaims. “You scared me, dude, what the fuck? No lurking, I thought we had already talked about it! What the fuck are you doing…” And then his anger disappears and guilt colours his face. “Oh, you called, you’re right, I’m sorry, I was just… I… I totally forgot, I was occupied when you called…”

“You were having an orgy?” Derek asks, wrinkling his nose. It’s not that he has something against sex (mostly), but he’s never found the mix of cum and sweat something appealing, and Stiles’s room seems to be filled by it. 

“What? I… what? I was… what?” Stiles splutters, his cheeks reddening. “I was just… I was… you… you can smell it still?”

“Yeah, it smells like a porn set in here.”

“I changed the sheets and I showered, I thought it was enough…” Stiles admits, looking at the bed. “Scott has never commented on the smell…”

Derek probably could just shut up and change the subject, but Stiles has those wrinkles on his forehead that indicate he’s thinking way too hard about something he thinks he needs to resolve.

“Well, maybe he doesn’t mind. You are having sex with him… and with everyone else, I heard.”

“You _heard_?” Stiles repeats, a smirk on his lips. “Where have you heard it?”

“Isaac and Erica were talking about it,” Derek answers. There’s no reason to feel guilty about it, his Betas were talking about something, and he heard them. Maybe he was more interested than strictly necessary because they were talking about _Stiles_ , but there’s no need to care too much about that single detail. “Why? Were they lying?”

“Well, they were probably exaggerating…”

“So I don’t have to worry about you trying to have sex with me?”

Stiles laughs so hard he almost falls of the chair again.

“I’m not going to have sex with you, Derek!”

And that… hurts. It’s not that Derek was expecting Stiles to jump at the chance to sleep with him, but he wasn’t even expecting such a convinced refusal. He crosses his arms, and cannot quite convince himself to look straight at the boy.

“I didn’t mean…” he tries to say, but Stiles interrupts him, jerking upright.

“No, no, no, Derek, no, I didn’t mean, Derek, no…” he blabbers, moving toward him. “Derek I… I’d _love_ to have sex with you, of course I would.”

“Stiles, you don’t have to…”

“I do!”

There’s a tense moment in which Derek and Stiles just keep looking at each other, both on edge, ready to fight or flight for survival. Then Stiles sigh.

“Derek, you can hear my heartbeat, you know I’m not lying…” He takes one of his hand, placing it on his heart, and Derek lets him, reassured by the too-fast but always steady beat. “I would love to have sex with you, Derek. Who wouldn’t? You’re… you’re hot and… you’re awesome…” He laughs. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t disappoint in bed.”

“But?” Asks Derek, because obviously there’s a but.

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, then his whole face scrunches up in exasperation, then he sighs.

“Listen, I… I know we’ve never talked about it. I know you _don’t want_ to talk about it and I promise, I _promise_ , that we’ll pretend we’ve never talked about it,” he says, hesitantly. “But we both know you’ve had pretty shitty experiences with sex. With relationship in general, to be honest, but… but yeah, let’s just talk about sex. And I… I don’t want to be just another shitty experience.”

Derek swallows and stays silent. He feels like he should take away his hand from Stiles’s chest, but he doesn’t want to. He summons a smirk.

“You’re worried I’d be disappointed?”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him, but he sobers up immediately after.

“I’m having sex with everyone, Derek, you said it. And I like it. I want to keep having sex with everyone and anyone, without caring about anything else. And you… you deserve someone who can be only yours, someone who’s going to give you all of him and maybe even something more. Derek, I… I’ll tell you this only once and if you ever try to use it against me I’ll deny…” he warns him, pointing a finger at his chest, but the words lack any strength. “You deserve so much more than you think, and you can have it, and you should want it, and I… I don’t want to be just the next in line who’ll disappoint you and hurt you.”

This time Derek  _does_ move his hand, crossing his arms again. His mind’s buzzing with all the things Stiles’s said, trying to order them and understand them – and trying to understand what he thinks of them.

“Have sex with me,” is what slip out of his lips. And even if it wasn’t what he was thinking about, he’s not regretting saying it. 

Stiles blinks, then his face scrunches up.

“Have you heard a single word of what I just said, Derek?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “And… I’m not going to repeat it but you’re right. I _have_ had shitty experience with sex and it… would be nice, to have better memories of it.” He feels awkward saying it, and he probably sounds awkward, too, but he’s never been good enough with words.

“Derek, I like to have sex around…”

“I don’t care, Stiles,” Derek says, and then he sighs, trying to explain exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. “I… I’ve never cared about those things, about… ‘close relationships’ and stuff like that. I… if… if you’re honest with me, that’s okay, you can have sex with whoever you want.”

“Derek, are… Are you sure?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

“Are _you_?” Derek retorts, because they’ve talked a lot about Derek, but none at all about Stiles.

“Am… am I sure?” The boy repeats, laughing. “Yeah, Derek, I’m… I’m sure. I mean, come on! Being with you? Being with you while you’re so open-mined about me having sex with others? Being with you while you don’t care about my… like… sexual freedom? Derek, it… it feels like a dream. And this is why I _need_ to know that you’re sure about it. That you’re not… like… pretending you don’t care because you want to be the one who doesn’t care, but in truth you really care because you’re a… a carer!”

“A _carer_ ,” Derek repeats, arching his eyebrows, then he sighs. “Stiles, I’m sure. I…” He inhales deeply. “It’s not that I don’t care, okay? It’s just that I… I don’t believe in monogamy. Neither sexual nor romantic, to be honest. I’m sure it works… okay, for someone, but I just… I… don’t think it should be expected and… well… demanded…”

Stiles’s looking at him with a strange expression, and Derek feels himself heating up under that heavy glaze. Then Stiles laughs, taking his face between his hands.

“Yeah, talk social-justice-warrior-y with me.”

“I have no idea what you’ve just said,” Derek admits, but he cannot stop himself from smiling in front of the big grin Stiles’s sporting.

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy murmurs. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yeah…”

And Stiles kisses him. 

If he was hesitant before, he’s clearly not now. His kiss is soft but sure, slow and sensual. Stiles moves his lips against his, licks them like he wants to taste them, bites them lightly. Derek’s sighing even before Stiles’s tongue slips in his mouth. Stiles’s as tall as him, but when he moves his head on the side so that they can deepen the kiss, he still feels a little smaller.

It probably means a lot of things, but he really doesn’t want to psychoanalyse himself in this exact moment.

He grabs Stiles’s hips to pull him closer, and the other moves his fingers on his neck, and then his shoulders, slipping them under his leather jacket.

“Let’s take this off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirms, helping him. “What… what do you want to do?” He asks, watching Stiles putting the jacket on the back of the chair with a certain reverence.

“Well, first, you’re going to sit on the bed,” Stiles answers, taking his hand to conduce him to the bed and then putting his hands on his shoulder to force him sitting on it, and Derek complies happily enough.

“And then?” He asks.

Stiles smirks and kneels between his legs. Derek inhales, gripping the bed sheets at his side.

“Then we’re going to make you comfortable, princess.”

Derek shivers at the pet name, unable to stop himself, surprising himself, too. Stiles looks at him with eyes wide open, his mouth open in shock – and Derek’s already ready to run away.

“No, no, Derek, no, no,” Stiles stops him, taking his face between his hands again, kissing his mouth, and his cheeks. “It’s okay…”

“It’s _humiliating_ ,” Derek bites back.

“It’s not, Derek!” Stiles replies, kissing him again. “I’m not here to judge you, Derek, sweetie, love…” 

Derek closes his eyes and inhales, trying to and failing at not being affected by those sweet words.

“You don’t have to feel… humiliated, sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong in liking something, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek croaks out.

“Okay,” Stiles repeats, smiling. “Then let’s make you comfortable, love.”

He takes off his shoes, putting them away, then he takes off his socks, too. His nimble fingers press against the sole of his feet in a fleeting massage, then moves up on his calves, slipping under the hem of his jeans.

Derek’s frozen in place. He’s not used to be taken care of, never has, and the ways Stiles’s doting on him makes him feel… odd. 

“Come here,” he says, grabbing Stiles from his forearm to bring him up to him. 

“We’re not in a rush,” Stiles retorts, a teasing smile on his lips. “I want to take care of you, sweetheart,” he adds in a softer voice. “Just… don’t worry and let me take care of you, alright?”

Derek licks his lips, hesitating even in the face of Stiles’s earnest expression and tender smile. 

“I… I don’t… know how I feel about that…” he admits at last, watching where his grip is whitening the boy’s skin. He lets him go immediately.

“Love,” Stiles calls him, the nickname flowing easily through his lips. He touches lightly his face, to make him look up at him. “You deserve to be taken care of, and I’d love to be the one to do it. Just… trust me?”

And Derek started trusting Stiles when he was only a skinny annoying brat trying to keep him afloat in a pool – he’s not going to stop now. He nods once, still not really relaxed, and the boy smiles, kissing him softly, then kneels again.

Derek moves his hands in the air, not sure of where to put them. In the end, he puts a hand on Stiles’s head, leaving the other on his own lap. 

Stiles looks up at him, smiling wide. His fingers skims Derek’s inseam, up along his legs, stopping right at the side of his fly. He moves up a little with his whole body to press a slow kiss against the werewolf's mouth, still smiling. He moves his hands under Derek’s shirt, following his muscles with his fingertips, uncovering the skin while he caresses him.

“What do you want, sweetie?” He asks against his lips. “What do you like?”

“I don’t…” Derek starts answering, stopping with a sigh when the human’s fingers brush his nipples. “I don’t know,” he admits, feeling his face heat up. 

“We’ll explore, then,” Stiles murmurs easily. “Is there something you’d like to start with, love?”

_Everything_ , Derek wants to say.  _Nothing_ , he wants to also say. 

Stiles’s nipping at his lips, and pressing lightly his fingers in his muscles, and caressing him. And Derek  _does_ want more, but he’s not sure what to ask for, or how to ask it. He moves his head a little, to kiss Stiles fully on the mouth, and the boy opens up for him, pressing his body against him.

“Maybe…” Derek murmurs when Stiles backs down to breathe. “We could start with less clothes?”

Stiles laughs, loud and sincere, and kisses him again. And again.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” This time the nickname is said with a smirk, more like a joke than anything else, but still not unkindly. Derek’s glad he hasn’t used Princess again, though.

Stiles stands up to take off his shirt, so near that it'd be so easy for Derek to touch him, to press a kiss on his skin, to bring an arm around his waist and just… keep him near. He doesn't do anything, he just looks at him, admiring the firmness of his muscles, counting the moles peppering his skin.

“Derek,” Stiles calls him, touching his jaw with a single finger to make him look at him. “Okay?”

“I don't know what to do,” Derek admits.

“You can do whatever you want, sweetie,” Stiles tells him, his lips curved in a smile. “Touch, kiss, lick… Scott loves to lick, you know? He just…” He laughs, but there's so much fondness in his voice. “He just loves it so much.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks.

He finally moves a hand, putting it lightly on Stiles hips. He still has his boxers on, and the difference between skin and clothes is… interesting. He understands Scott's passion for licking, because Stiles's skin is warm under his palm, and he kind of wants to kiss every one of his moles. 

“I don't know what to do,” he repeats; and then he amends. “I don't know what I want to do.”

“Okay,” Stiles accepts easily enough, kissing him softly. “Let's start with taking off your clothes like you said, love. Okay?”

“Right,” Derek confirms.

He stands up, and Stiles doesn't back off, so that they find each other pressed one against the other, breathing together. 

“I can't undress like this, Stiles,” Derek says, but when the other smiles and kisses him, he smiles and kisses back. “Stiles…”

“I know, I know,” Stiles murmurs against his lips. “I know, we should lose the clothes.”

“We should,” Derek confirms. But then he grabs Stiles's hips so that he won't move. He looks down between them so he won't look Stiles in the eyes. There's a constellation of moles right beside his right hand, and he follows them with his thumb. “And when we're naked maybe you could…” He starts saying, then he stops, hesitating. Stiles runs his fingers through his hairs, strangely patient. “Maybe you could fuck me?”

Stiles shudders, his heartbeat spikes up, just like his arousal. Still, he breaths deeply before answering, which is not something Derek was expecting. He was expecting him to just say yes.

“Are you sure it's really what you want?” Stiles asks kindly. “I mean, I'm not going to tell you that sex is something special or whatever, you should talk with Scott for things like that!” He laughs. Derek wonders if he notices the way his voice softens a little every time he names Scott, and how often he talks about Scott. “But… we _just_ talked about your… uhm… problems… and I'm not sure this is the best way to solve them.”

“I also said I wanted good memories…” Derek reminds him.

“And this is the way to create them?” The other asks. He doesn't sound judgemental, just honestly interested in his answer. Derek doesn't know what to tell him, so he just shrugs. “Derek, we don't… we don't _have_ to have sex, like… right now. We're not in a rush, we can… we can wait. We can go slow. We can have sex next time.”

Derek doesn't answer immediately, he just takes Stiles's hand with his own, looking at them.

“Next time?” He repeats after a moment.

“Yeah, next time,” Stiles confirms easily, then he softens. “Did you think it was an only-once kind of thing?”

“I don't know,” Derek admits. He doesn't even know what he was hoping for.

“Do you… want it to be a next time? Because we don't have to…”

Derek kisses him, then, because kissing,  _doing_ , is way better than talking, or thinking abut what he wants out of this. For now, he just wants to kiss, so he kisses. He kisses him fast, and hard, and Stiles opens up for him and melts against his chest.

“Alright, sweetie,” Stiles sighs against his lips. “We can talk later, then.”

He grasps at the werewolf's belt, fiddling with it to open it and take it off. Derek lets him taking care of his jeans, while he slips his fingers in the other's boxers, pressing his fingers against his skin, cupping firmly his ass.

It's a nice ass.

Stiles laughs in surprise, pressing against him. His hardening cock's a firm warm line against Derek's hip, and he can feel his own cock fill up in response. Then Stiles kneels in front of him to lower his jeans and the blood rushes downward.

“So… let's agree on not asking you what you want,” he murmurs, his breath puffing hot against his cock, through his underwear. “Can you promise me you'll tell me what you _don't_ want? Would you do that for me, sweetheart?”

He moves to press a kiss on his stomach, and Derek stops immediately.

“That,” he says, then he inhales and forces himself to explain better. “I don't… I'd rather you don't… kiss my stomach. Or lick it.”

He's ready for Stiles to ask him for an explanation, and the idea of having to talk about it - about _her_ makes him want to throw up. Stiles doesn't ask, though.

“Okay,” he accepts easily. “I'm going to take off your underwear, now. Is that okay, love?”

“Yes, yeah…” Derek confirms. “Just… the stomach's the only problem.”

“Okay,” the other says again, taking off his slips.

Derek steps out of the clothes, throwing them further away with his foot. Stiles hands are still on his legs, and he's looking up and down at him with an appreciative smirk. He still has his boxers on, but it doesn't do a lot to hide his hard-on.

“Can I suck you off?” He asks, licking his lips, his voice hoarse. “Would that be okay?”

“I… I was thinking about something else…” Derek admits. He runs his finger through the other's hairs, and he follows his movement, almost closing his eyes in bliss.

“What were you thinking about, love?”

It looks like Stiles's circling around just two or three pet names, which is okay, because Derek's not sure he could take more of them. If Stiles uses 'Princess' again, Derek's probably going to throw himself out the window.

“Come here, stand up…”

Stiles stands up with a curious light in his eyes and a smile on his lips. He kisses him, smacking his lips against the other's with a loud noise, then he snickers.

“Standing up,” he says, like he thinks maybe Derek hasn't noticed it. “And now?”

Derek doesn't answer. He puts an arm around Stiles's waist and brings him nearer, pressing their bodies together. Their cocks don't really align, but Derek's cock is nicely pressed against Stiles's hip, and the same must be true for the human, because he sighs and starts rutting lazily.

“Nice,” he sighs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder. “But I think that… maybe it'd be better if we lay down?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirms. 

He steps back to sit again on the bed, then he scuttles backward so that he can lay down. Stiles takes off his boxers, finally, throwing them somewhere on his right. There's something sensual in the way he walks toward the bed, and the way his cock bobs with every step is undoubtedly hot. But there's also a smile on his lips, and a mischievous light in his eyes; which is, probably, the thing Derek likes the most. 

Stiles gets up on the bed on his hands and knees, moves on top of Derek, presses down on him. He kisses him, and Derek takes his face between his hands to keep him closer while they kiss. Stiles starts immediately rutting against him, but the angle's wrong, and their cocks don't align well.

“Wait, wait,” Derek murmurs, grabbing his hips to stop him. “Not like this…”

“Then how?”

For a moment, Derek thinks about changing their position, everything would be easier with Stiles under him, but Stiles's weight on him is too nice to pass it on, so he discards that idea pretty quickly. He moves under the other to change the angle, presses a hand on the other's ass to bring him a little higher. When their cocks align, brushing against each other, Stiles gasps and presses his face against Derek's neck.

“Like this,” Derek murmurs. “Sweetheart.”

Stiles laughs a little at the nickname, then he sighs again, moving against the other. For a while, the werewolf lets him, enjoying his movements, uncoordinated as they may be. Stiles's sighing and murmuring sweet nothing against his skin, and that's probably the single most erotic thing Derek has ever heard. 

“So good,” Stiles's saying between the tiny gasps and the sighs. “You're so good for me, Derek, so good…”

“You're perfect,” Derek replies, even though he's not sure Stiles really hears him.

He arches up and Stiles groans, pressing down against him. Derek's never been vocal, but he's quite sure even if he were, his sounds would be lost under the sounds Stiles can't seem to stop.

“So good,” the human gasps. 

He's trembling a little and he's leaking pre-cum on Derek's skin, he must be near the climax. Derek is, too, taken there more by Stiles's voice than by anything else. He slips a hand between their bodies, circling their cocks, jerking them together. It's not the best idea, to do it dry, but Stiles's pre-cum works good enough to slick them up. 

Stiles's sighing and moaning and making all these  _sounds_ , and Derek's going crazy.

“Stiles…”

“I'm here,” the other immediately replies. “I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here…” He presses a kiss against his shoulder, sighs against his skin. “Fuck, Derek…”

Derek brings him closer with an arm around his body, his hand still moving steady on their cocks, even though the arousal and the pleasure (and Stiles's  _voice,_ damn) are making it difficult to concentrate and coordinate. He misses a beat, but Stiles really doesn't seem to mind, and Derek doesn't either, to be honest.

“I'm coming,” Stiles warns, the simple sentence broken up by a gasp. “Love, sweetie, Derek, I'm…”

“Yeah,” Derek stops him, kissing him fast and chaste. He still jerks them off, adding a twist at the end, the way he likes it. Two cocks is quite different from a single cock, but he thinks he's doing okay. Stiles seems to appreciate. “Yeah, me too,” he adds, a beat too late.

“Okay,” Stiles says, like maybe he was waiting for permission, or something like that.

He tenses up immediately after saying that, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against Derek's shoulder, circling Derek's biceps with his fingers. He shivers, his hips jerk in little movements. It's a moment, and then he's coming with a breathless gasp, covering Derek's stomach and hand in white stripes.

For a moment, Derek's not sure what to do. When he comes, he usually doesn't like for his cock to be touched again, and maybe it's the same for Stiles; but he's not sure how he feels about just finishing off alone, with Stiles still on top on him. Luckily, it's Stiles himself who takes away the doubt. He stands up on an elbow and takes his hand with his own, kissing it and licking it, cleaning it a little from his own cum.

“Are you close, darling?” He asks, letting the hand go. He takes Derek's cock with his own, smiles when the other sighs. “Would you come for me?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirms, even though it wasn't necessary. He takes Stiles's face between his hands to bring him near enough to kiss him. If he minds the stickiness on his cheek, he doesn't comment on it. 

Stiles must have noticed the way Derek was jerking them off, because he uses the same slow movements with the twist at the end, he also presses a thumb on the underside, just below the head. Derek shivers, makes a small noise that's immediately swallowed by Stiles's kiss. 

There are things he'd like to say, even though he's not sure what these things even are, but the pleasure's taking away his ability to talk, or think, so he just brings Stiles closer and hopes it's enough to make him understand.

He's not sure Stiles  _does_ understand, but he moves with more confidence, more sureness. It's not long before the climax hits Derek, too. 

He grasps Stiles tight, maybe a little too tight but the other doesn't seem to mind, gasp against his lips, arches up in his hand. The climax doesn't hit too hard, no stars, no white-outs – not that Derek has ever experienced orgasms like those. It still shakes him through his core, and for some moment after climaxing Derek stays still, breathing deep.

“Perfect,” Stiles purrs in bliss. He licks his hand clean and Derek's cock twitches valiantly, but it's way too soon, even for a werewolf.

“That's… that's going to be a good memory for sure,” Derek croaks out.

“Just the first of many, I hope, sweetie,” Stiles murmurs, kissing him again. 

He tastes of himself, and Derek, and sex – it's a perfect mix Derek's never going to forget.


End file.
